


How the Mighty Fall

by relic_amaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sappy, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 13:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15196220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: Castiel doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s fallen in love and given himself to you. He finds that he doesn't mind this at all.





	How the Mighty Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working towards this story for so long trying to make it work and I think I got it. I really just wanted a fic of Cas being real cute and sweet, so here, have Cas/Reader falling in love fluff. My god, the sap, you guys. I hope you like sap. Title is from the Fall Out Boy song which lyrically doesn’t super match up but tonally works pretty well. (PS: I don’t really know when this takes place but when it comes to my undated TFW stuff I tend to stick around season 4-6ish, so maybe this can work as an alt S6.)

 

Castiel doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You okay, Cas?”

“I’m fine,” he says almost immediately. The delay is important, so that one isn’t caught on their lie so quickly. Still, you frown at him like you suspect. But then, you would. You’ve been around the Winchesters for even longer than he has, so you are wise to the tricks that they employ most often. You are intelligent, and clever, and–

“Okay.” You nudge the bottle closer to him but lean in to murmur, “It’s okay if you don’t like it.”

“No, I do like it,” he says and takes a long drink of something he can barely, _barely_ taste beyond the chaos that makes it what it is. Dean snorts into his mug and Castiel shoots him a glare. Sam’s not much better, smirking and chuckling.

You smack Dean’s back hard enough to make the other hunter wince (much to Castiel’s satisfaction). “Lay off, Dean. Some people just don’t like beer.”

“Don’t like _your_ beer,” Dean mutters but when Castiel scowls at him for suggesting that, Dean smirks at him, and Castiel finds himself confused. He expected Dean to get irritated, but Dean just leans back with his pint, still smug. “Maybe Cas just needs a course on what _good_ beer is.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s going to give it? Certainly not _you_ , Dean ‘This-table-isn’t- _that_ -dirty-so-I’m-going-to-lap-up-my-spilled-booze-like-a-Goddamn-dog’ Winchester.”

“Hey, that shit was _expensive_ and I was drunk! You can’t hold that over me forever.”

“Wanna bet?”

As the two of you squabble Castiel takes in the cold dew forming under his hands along the glass surface, the warmth of the summer air around him that has you forgoing your plaid overshirt in favor of a tank top. The way you fan yourself and stretch your neck out, showing much more skin than you usually do. How the smile you’ve been holding back erupts when Dean gets in a particularly good joke and the two of you lean over the table, laughing in delight. It’s probably good he didn’t listen to the joke. He gets so defensive these days, even when he doesn’t mean to, and he wouldn’t trade this memory of you laughing with abandon for anything.

Sam leans in suddenly, making Castiel jerk upright. Sam ignores the flinch– or, hopefully, he doesn’t notice it– and says your name to catch your attention. “What was that beer you were talking about yesterday? Your favorite?”

“Oh.” Your eyes light up as you start talking about your favorite beverage. You’re so passionate about it that Castiel tries desperately to follow along, but most of it is out of his comprehension. He gathers that it’s seasonal, special enough that people line up for it, and that your eyes take on this nostalgic sheen as you talk about it.

And Castiel knows something about getting what he needs. Gabriel had insisted on ‘showing him the ropes’ when it became apparent he was going to be spending most of his time on earth. Most of those lessons he wishes he could scrub from his consciousness, but this? He might even _thank_ Gabriel for this lesson.

He disappears and comes back with two bottles of what he hopes is the right product. He feels gratified beyond belief when your jaw drops and you stare at the labels. “Cas. Is that what I think it is?”

Castiel stands proudly as he sets the bottles in front of you. He doesn’t miss Dean and Sam flashing smiles at each other and he braces himself. Dean and Sam are two of his very best friends in the entirety of human and angelic history but Father help them if they try to ruin this triumphant moment for him…

“Only two bottles, Cas?” Dean clicks his tongue. “A little stingy, isn’t it? Who gets the share the extra one?”

Castiel moves both bottles closer to you. “Neither are for you.”

“Oh, it’s okay Cas; I’d love to share this,” you say and push one of the bottles over to the brothers. “Here, you guys share one and I’ll share with Cas.”

“I can’t take any. It’s your favorite,” Castiel says as you and Dean take care of the tops. He squints at the discarded bottle cap. He should have thought of that. He thinks you might be impressed by the fact that he can return those to a recycling plant within seconds.

“Come on, at least a sip,” you say. You take a fortifying drink yourself and practically melt into your own smile. “Oh, that’s so good. Here.”

Castiel takes the bottle and tries _not_ to think of how your mouth was just wrapped around the opening. He licks his own lips and places them on one side of the rim, like he can possibly somehow taste you through sweet-sour-bitter and a million divisions within. He takes a small sip, more concerned with dragging his mouth and tongue over the edge, and he licks his lips again. “Delicious,” he says and hands the bottle back to you.

You laugh, but the sound is far from mocking. “You don’t have to humor me, Cas; it’s okay if you don’t like it. It just means there’s more for me.”

“It makes you happy, so I like it very much,” he says.

You are quiet for a moment and he fears it might be too much, but your eyes soften and so does your smile. “Cas…that’s so sweet.”

“You know, sharing a bottle like that is sort of an indirect kiss,” Dean says, leaning in. Castiel is torn between asking him for more details and thinking about taking Gabriel’s cue and snapping him to a deserted island.

You turn your most unamused expression onto the elder Winchester. “You know you and Sam are sharing a bottle, right?”

Dean scowls and Sam almost spits out his drink. “Never mind, doesn’t count,” Dean grumbles and steals the bottle back.

You turn your head and wink at Castiel, to which he returns a small smile. He does wish it had counted. However he finds satisfaction at the end of the night when he flicks his hand to send the bottles to a recycling plant, and you are, indeed, dutifully impressed. The way you smile and thank him makes his chest ache in a way that makes him worry for his body, even though he logically knows whatever it is won't kill him. He doesn’t know what to call this feeling, but he knows enough to realize he’s in trouble.

 

“Cas?”

Castiel jerks back to the conversation. The motion is miniscule, comparatively, and he doubts anyone noticed. Or, he would, were Gabriel not also here and looking at him inquisitively.

“Are you paying any attention?” Sam asks, one eyebrow quirking upwards.

“Yes,” Castiel says and mentally reviews the pertinent information. A veritable hive of demons, holding onto a holy relic, all–

–You shift in your chair and pull up the jacket that had fallen to expose an old scar running down your shoulder. You’re focused on a page of notes, oblivious to the blip in conversation.

“Cas?” Dean says and shares a grin with Gabriel. Sam shakes his head.

As soon as you start to focus, Castiel shifts his glance to go just slightly behind you to stare at an unremarkable point on the wall. He can still see you, though, how your eyes sharpen just before you look around. “Um, sorry guys; I was looking for that mass trap spell and zoned out. What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Dean leans back, smug smile set in place. “And don’t worry– Cas zoned out too.”

“I did not. I…received a message.” Castiel actively does not look at you.

“Angel radio?” Dean’s smirk _grows_ and Gabriel snickers. Castiel misses the days when they did not get along.

“Yes,” Castiel answers with all the dignity he can muster. Considering how hard he has to work to keep from even glancing at you, he fears there isn’t much left.

“Hmm…” Gabriel knocks on his temple. “Mine must be busted. I didn’t hear anything.”

Castiel glowers at him. “It was private.”

“Oh I bet it was,” Gabriel says in a tone loaded with innuendo.

Castiel is aware he is like a Chihuahua plotting to murder a German Sheppard. Like a Chihuahua, if he bites _just_ right…

“Guys,” Sam implores. “Building full of demons, enough wards to render angels nearly powerless, and an artifact with a ridiculous amount of power they might be close to unlocking. We have less than a day to hit them before they go into hiding again; can we _please_ focus?”

“Sorry Sam,” you say and Castiel echoes the same. Dean and Gabriel grumble but settle into place, and Castiel forces himself to focus.

That goes out the metaphorical window, though, when you lean against him and whisper right into his ear, “Ignore them.”

Castiel can hardly function with you pressed up against him, his skin prickling where your breath hits, but he somehow manages a quick nod nonetheless.

Yes, he is certainly in trouble.

 

 _This_ sort of trouble is almost a respite.

His head is slammed against broken concrete.

Almost.

The raid has gone remarkably well– Gabriel has already absconded with the stone, and the last thing Castiel knows of you is that you, Dean, and Sam are just fine, combing through the wreckage and taking care of the demonic stragglers after the massive exorcism that rocked the foundations and broke most of the wards.

The demon kicks Castiel onto his back.

Most of them.

“What’s wrong Feathers?” The demon sneers and presses its stolen foot onto Castiel’s chest. “Not enjoying the human experience?”

Castiel grunts at the pressure threatening to crack open his chest. “It isn’t so unfamiliar,” he says. Unfamiliar, no; unsettling, yes. There are a great many things to being human that confounded Castiel before, but above all he doesn’t know how humans can go through life so blind. Especially those, like hunters, who interact with demons as they really are. Seeing a smiling human face is so much more unnerving than being able to see the demon for what it truly is. For example, how many eyes does this one have? Does it even have eyes? Can it smell?

In the end it doesn’t matter– it is stabbed through by a familiar blade and the energy of it alights in fire beneath the skin, before it falls, extinguished within its host.

“Cas!” you exclaim and kneel down next to him. When you slip your hand into his it’s all he can do to gather the strength to squeeze back.

“Sam! Dean!” you yell, though he wishes you wouldn’t. He wouldn’t mind being here alone with you, holding your hand, for a little while longer. “Little help here, guys!”

Your voice is so strong, but he can hear the panicked waver. Panic? “Don’t…worry,” he says as Sam and Dean thunder down the stairs. Again, he wishes he could just stay here– he’s not looking forward to this next part.

The three of you get him upstairs to where Gabriel is waiting, almost lounging while standing against a wall, a lollypop in his mouth. Castiel is laid out on the floor, his head resting in your lap, and he allows himself a few moments of bliss before he makes eye contact with Gabriel.

“Should we leave you two alone?” Gabriel asks but his eyes drift down Castiel’s arm and the sucker falls out of his mouth. “Fuck!”

“What is it?” you ask and Dean and Sam come over to lean in as Gabriel, now crouched next to Castiel, studies the brand on his forearm.

“Dark magic. Of course,” Gabriel scoffs but his eyes (again, only the two that Castiel can see, this is very disconcerting) hold genuine concern. “Cassie, this is going to hurt. A _lot_.”

“I know,” Castiel says. One can claim he says it with somber dignity. He would say he says it with a fearful certainty of the agony that’s to come.

“What’s happening?” you ask at the same time Dean says, “What’s going on?”

“This brand means his grace is twinning with physical matter. It’s making him human, sort of,” Gabriel says. “It’s going to take a lot of work, and hurt like a _bitch_ , but I can undo it. You three need to get out of here.”

“No!” you say and lean over Castiel as if to protect him. “I’ll stay with him.”

“Sorry kiddo but this isn’t something you can hold his hand through. This is going to involve an angel popping out of his skin and archangel mojo at work. Eyes burning; the building itself is probably gonna go,” Gabriel says and squeezes your shoulder. Castiel wishes he could do that; somehow reassure you and keep your face from crumpling the way it does, but he’s so tired…

“Hang in there Cas,” Dean murmurs and pats Castiel’s arm before he goes, and Sam gives him a similar, heartfelt dictum.

You gently set his head on the floor, and then block everything in his sight as you lean over him in an attempted hug. “I’ll be waiting. You’ll be okay Cas; you’ll be okay,” you whisper, sounding more like you’re trying to comfort yourself than reassure him.

“I will,” Castiel says. He feels like he should do something more, but he watches you go until you’re out of sight.

Gabriel sits by him, uncharacteristically quiet as time ticks on. Finally he says, “Are you ready?”

He isn’t, but Castiel nods anyway. “I’ll be fine when this is over,” he reassures his brother.

Gabriel smiles grimly. “On the count of three. One–”

Castiel screams as the world becomes white.

 

Castiel returns to a world that is both muted, but also… _more_. His angelic senses are a welcome discovery, but overwhelming still, and he has to pull himself back. The room is nearly empty, and artificially dark, with light peeking through the cracks of broken blinds pulled as taut as one can manage.

His head rests upon a pillow that is cradled in your lap and he listens to your quiet humming for a few seconds before he rasps your name. He sees your throat pulse with a heavy swallow, and the corner of your lips curves just slightly.

“Shh,” you respond and stroke the side of his face so tenderly that his eyes flutter shut on instinct. “Rest, Cas. It’s okay.”

Soft fingers trail down his skin, recently bitten nails catching ever so slightly on barely-there stubble, and Castiel wants– he wants so much he _aches_ and feels almost sick with it.

But he wants, even more, to savor this quiet closeness. He is yours, all of him is yours, and he hopes someday that you can perhaps be his, but for now he floats in this dusty motel room on a hazy afternoon and succumbs to the feeling that he belongs, grace and consciousness, to you, and he sinks into a devotion that he has never quite known before.

 

“Oh _cool_!”

“Oh come on!” Dean hollers as you run out into the downpour. “Seriously?!”

Castiel smiles at your enthusiasm and joy as you twirl in the rain and Gabriel laughs the more you and Dean yell at each other.

“You are not getting in my baby like that!” Dean shouts.

“Fine!” you yell back and then wink at Castiel. “Cas, will you give me a ride back?”

“Certainly,” he says, unsure if you can even hear him in the deluge, but your bright smile conveys understanding and Castiel can admit to himself he is smitten by the sight of it.

“Go get ‘em little bro,” Gabriel says and claps his shoulder.

“I will,” Castiel says, and smiles again when he renders his brother speechless for once.

Those three leave and Castiel walks down a covered path to get closer to where you are. He thinks he can just watch and wait, but, like so many things in his existence– in his _life_ , you throw that idea right out. You turn, grin wickedly, and run up to him. He braces himself for water flicked in his direction (why are humans so obsessed with splashing) but you grab his hand and he, of course, relents to whatever you need of him.

“Come on!” you say, unnecessarily; as if he would not follow you everywhere.

You grip his hand to pull him with you, into the rain, and the water doesn’t even enter into his awareness. Nothing does, beyond the feel of your hand clenched around his. When you use your other hand to take his other one as well, he thinks he might take flight, but your smile grounds him.

“You might think this is silly,” you tell him in warning, as though _anything_ can chase him away, “–but I’ve always wanted to try this.”

He doesn’t get a chance to ask what ‘this’ is before you press your lips to his.

When you pull away (too _soon_ his mind, body, and being beg) all he can say is, “oh. _Oh_.”

You laugh. Hesitancy and fear he had never even noticed slip away and Castiel realizes– just as he has been yours without realizing it, perhaps part of you has been his for almost as long. “Yeah,” you say. “ _Oh_.”

He smiles then, unrestrained, and surprises you both with the ease with which he pulls you flush against his body. “I don’t think it’s silly,” he says and kisses you, open-mouthed to taste, and _oh_ , the press of your body is only made better by the pressure of your lips, your tongue, the mingling of your inherent taste with what little rain can penetrate; the feel of your fingers digging into his shoulders, as though a little more and you could grip his grace itself.

He wants that. He wants to feel all of your body against his, to go deeper, to sink into you and feel you seep into him in return; he wants to wrap his pure essence around your soul and lose himself in a tangle where one cannot find where either of you end or begin, and where no one, not Gabriel, not his Father Himself, can pull you apart.

For now, though, he tempers himself. You pull back with a dreamy smile and it’s all he can do not to lean back in. But he manages.

“Hey.” Your smile becomes a grin. “I have a great idea.”

You are so smart and clever and never is that more apparent than with your suggestion that leads to the two of you in bed, clothed and soaked but limbs entwined, kissing like you have all the time the universe can care to give.

And when Dean walks in and shouts in dismay at the state of his bed, well, that’s just an extra endorsement of your brilliance.


End file.
